To The Eye Of The Beholder
by lilidelafield
Summary: Picture Challenge from LiveJournal. Napoleon disagrees with Illya. Definitely! Absolutely!


"That, my dear Illya, is hideous!"

Illya frowned.

"What's hideous about it Napoleon?

Napoleon stared at the material in disbelief. Basic black background…yes, very Illya, but what was all this? Red checkered lines, and worse still, all that unbelievably gaudy yellow patterning? Was Illya for real? Apparently he was.

"Well, you don't have to live with it, my friend. I like it. It's cheerful."

Napoleon nodded slowly.

"Well, yes, but for a bedroom? As curtains, Illya, that goes beyond cheerful! It's so loud, it'll keep you awake all night!"

Illya smirked.

"It will give me some privacy, and that is all that matters to me, my friend."

"And it's cheap."

"I like the colours."

"And it's cheap."

"I don't like changing in the bathroom because it is too cramped in there, so I need…"

"Illya, just admit it, you like it because it's cheap."

"All right, if you insist, the low price did give me an added incentive for buying it, yes."

"I thought so. You chose it because it's cheap. Illya, the only thing that material is good for is to make cushion covers for the cat's basket…I think even your cat would object to such loud material!"

Illya rolled his eyes.

"Look, Napoleon, you don't have to live with it, but I promise you it will not look as bad as you appear to think. Just be grateful I didn't decide to buy the matching wallpaper as well!"

Napoleon buried his face in his hands and shook his head.

"Perish the thought. When are you hanging them?"

"Today of course. Why should I wait even longer?"

Napoleon nodded slowly.

"Well…don't say I didn't warn you, that's all. Look, I have to go. I have some chores to run. I'll come by tomorrow at seven to pick you up for work?"

Illya nodded.

"Thank you. See you tomorrow."

Once Napoleon was gone, Illya set to work, sewing his new, admittedly loud material for his curtains, and hung them at the window in his bedroom. He stood back in the doorway to study the effect. He had painted his bedroom walls a very pale lemon colour a few days ago in an attempt to escape the dull white, and his bed was covered with a burgundy bedspread. The new curtains at the windows, drawn back and tied with burgundy cord looked surprisingly stylish. To him at any rate. It was not as though he was going to spend hours in here staring at the curtains was he? His only reason for going into his bedroom would be to close his eyes. To Illya it was irrelevant the colours of his bedroom, for the very reason that it was a room to sleep in.

He returned to his sitting room and found he still had plenty of material left over. He looked around the room. Napoleon had frequently called it Spartan, and so it was, but it suited him well enough, but why not dress it up a little whilst he had the spare material?

There was not enough material left to make curtains for this room as well, but the black curtains he had secretly bought yesterday would do well in here. It would go well with the new black cover he had procured for his sofa. Fine, then cushion covers it would be. He had two fait cushions in his bedroom that he sometimes used as bolsters, so he would make covers for them and put them in here. Illya set to work, and sewed industriously until he had a pair of matching cushion covers. It didn't take him long to hang his new sitting room curtains, and the covers for the sofa took mere seconds to fit and strap in place. Once he was finished, he threw his new-look cushions on the sofa, and, being as it was now quite late, he went to bed…and closed his eyes.

The next morning, Napoleon knocked on his partner's door, half an hour earlier than he was expected. He was eager to see Illya eating his words about those hideous curtains he had bought. Illya opened the door still wrapped scantily in a towel and scowled.

"You're early. Kicked out of bed were you?"

"Har har!" Napoleon entered glancing round the room casually. "So did you get your…"

His voice dried up. This living room yesterday had been bare. Off-white walls, no curtains or even nets at the windows, an ugly orange sofa and no carpet on the black tiled floor. He stared now. The floor was still bare black tiles, but the sofa was covered with a smart black cover, the windows were now dressed with black curtains, pulled back to let the light stream in…and that awful, curtain material…two cushions nestled on the black sofa clad in that lurid material and it did not look awful or lurid at all. It looked…he had to admit…surprisingly good. He suddenly realized Illya was watching him with a smirk on that annoying face.

"Napoleon, your mouth is open. You are starting to look like your aunt Amy's stuffed fish!"

"But Illya, this…this…"

"You approve?" Illya looked amused.

"Um…yeah. What about the garish curtains? Do they look as good?"

"See for yourself."

Napoleon poked his head round Illya's bedroom door and his eyes opened wide. Not at all to his personal taste, but he had to admit, that those curtains, in the right setting, looked…looked different. Somehow the red patterning that was virtually deafened by the yellow was quietly drawn out by the use of the pale lemony colour on the walls, and the burgundy bedspread and curtain ties. The yellow still stood out, but it was greatly muted.

"It…uh."

"Is it as loud as you expected my friend?"

"Well, I uh…it is still rather loud, in my opinion, but it does look a lot better than I expected."

Illya smiled.

"It does the job, Napoleon. For me a bedroom is for sleeping in, not entertaining visitors. Most of the time I spend in my bedroom I have my eyes shut. What difference does it make what colour the curtains are? Now will you please give me some privacy while I get dressed?"

Illya was quickly ready, and as they left, opened his cupboard door and brought out a small parcel.

"Here Napoleon. For you."

Napoleon was touched.

"Thank you, my friend. Can I open it now?"

"It would be better if you wait until you get home this evening."

Looking at him strangely, Napoleon nodded.

"Very well. Thank you."

That evening, Napoleon burst out laughing as he finally opened his parcel and took out the contents. A full set of six cushion covers in garish, lurid yellow swirls. A small note enclosed said:

"Napoleon, if you still do not like the pattern, these covers are reversible."

Napoleon turned one of them inside out and smiled. It was plain black, and would fit in perfectly with his own décor.

"Thanks Illya." He said softly. "You're a star!"


End file.
